


Vulture Club

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Brotherhood, Brothers, Friendship, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 15:05:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2656445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Undertaker has taken many forms but he always returns to who he truly is, just as Kane does when not losing himself in mortality. Undertaker isn’t expecting Kane to bring Seth Rollins to him but it begins to make sense. Cycles should be completed and it’s past time that Undertaker took on an apprentice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulture Club

**Author's Note:**

> There's a mention of Kane/Daniel Bryan and a sense of Seth Rollins/Dean Ambrose/Roman Reigns if you squint, which you should ;)

 

 

The Undertaker was always aware of his brother's location. Blood was powerful; he’d learned that from a young age. Undertaker had fought his brother so many times before and he would fight him many times again. Life was made up of such cycles. Kane had been Undertaker’s destruction more than once and vice versa, but they always returned and they would always be brothers.

 

As he worked on one of his prized motorbikes, the Undertaker knew that Kane was inhabiting his most mortal body, the one that didn’t wear a mask, the one without long hair and scarred burned flesh. It made Kane seem fainter to the Undertaker, more corporal to everyone else perhaps but less so to Kane’s brother. It was irritating but bearable. Neither of them particularly enjoyed wearing such forms though they were sometimes necessary. Sometimes mortality was all that people could comprehend or believe in.

 

Kane would be arriving soon. Perhaps he’d grown weary of corporate company. Undertaker didn’t have favorable memories of his own time spent in conjunction with the McMahons. The Corporate Ministry had been empty of everything he believed in, even if it had brought him the company-wide power that he’d craved. Kane was a powerful enforcer for the Authority and so had gained a high position and status. Perhaps to cement their trust in him, their belief that they actually had power over him, Kane had handed over his mask to the Authority, his talisman that would always call him back to his true form. The Authority had no idea what power was actually held in the mask of course, they just thought they were holding hostage a trigger, an incentive, a favored possession. Handing over a talisman was not a step that Undertaker would have ever taken; the urn that had always been tied to who he truly was was now kept extremely safe. Not even Kane knew where it was stored.

 

Even though his brother had been foolish enough to give his own talisman away, Undertaker would aid him in retrieving it if necessary. He knew what it was to be trapped in one paltry grievingly-mortal body.

 

He wiped grease away from an engine part, aware of a vehicle coming down the nearby dirt track towards the place that he was currently calling home. The ashes and graveyard dirt smeared across the garage floorboards trembled. There were always charms sewn into the lining of the Undertaker’s clothing, especially his mantle and boots. Now those charms warmed and Undertaker finished his work on the motorbike engine, getting to his feet.

 

Kane was driving the approaching car, accompanied by someone else, someone slighter, all sinew and anger and tarnished triumph. A corporate warrior, that Kane had felt compelled to bring to his brother. Undertaker inhaled, Seth Rollins was coming for a visit. Undertaker exited the garage as the car drew ever nearer, he could sense Seth's surprise at the garage door lowering, the glimpse of motorbikes within brief but clear. Did Seth believe that just because the Undertake had looked different when he had ridden motorbikes to the ring that his love for them had died with that body?

 

Undertaker shook his head. People had no real concept of time and form, of what was burned away every time the Undertaker was buried, alive or dead, or consumed by an inferno or lost to blood. They had no idea of what remained every time he was reborn. He had once ridden in a horse-drawn buggy, coffins stacked up behind him in the bitter air. Coffins and caskets still remained, ready in his workshop for collection as he built more to order.

 

How little did Seth know? Why had Kane brought him here? Seth had betrayed and beaten his brothers; he had continued to pile cruel acts and crueler words upon them. He'd meant every one but Undertaker could see and feel the longing hidden under Seth’s skin, unprotected by charms and ash, longing and an admittedly interesting rawness that ran bone-deep. Seth didn’t know how to close the cycle, to begin again. Perhaps that was the reason behind Seth’s presence beside Kane. Yes.

 

Undertaker watched as the vehicle parked up. Seth stayed in the car, his eyes sharp, wary and curious. Undertaker didn’t acknowledge him, instead he turned to Kane, clad in a suit and tie and unblemished skin. Kane dug hands into his pants pockets and stood on the sandy dirt. Undertaker watched the vultures circle; they followed him everywhere. They were especially keen when he rode out into the desert. He rode until his form was cleansed and healed, ready for rebirth, the vultures waited for dinner time.

 

His gaze took in Kane’s current body. He’d need to spend time in his true form soon, there were ways to lead the Authority into giving back the mask without causing any suspicion. Undertaker lifted an eyebrow, Kane inclined his head; he had plans in place. Good. The WWE could benefit from some brimstone.

 

Kane smelled sickly, the wrong kind of wrong. There were no embers or banked flames ebbing out of him. It didn’t feel right at all. The color of Undertaker’s eyes flickered, Kane’s plans should come into effect sooner rather than later.

 

Seth was still watching them. Undertaker assessed his form silently; Seth wouldn’t want a wooden coffin. Metal would suit him better, something complicated around the handles, an important message that only his brothers would understand. Seth still claimed that Dean Ambrose and Roman Reigns had only ever been business associates, never brothers, never people who actually mattered to him. He was lying to himself as well as to everyone else; brothers never stopped being brothers, no matter what.

 

Kane shifted his weight – he agreed. Seth had a lot to learn, and Kane thought that Seth could be, should be, taught, away from the corporate sludge that clogged up so many people. Kane had lost himself in that numbing mire more than once, most recently because of how he’d lost Daniel. He knew the danger that lay in those kinds of wallowing lies. Now, the Authority trusted Kane; they thought that he was their puppet. They deserved everything that was going to happen to them.

 

Undertaker nodded slightly. He could do with an extra pair of hands in the workshop, there were always more coffins and caskets to make, and the garage was full of mechanical problems and adjustments. Seth would learn as Undertaker and Kane once had, Undertaker didn’t doubt that he’d see in Seth what Kane already did. Kane’s form was weak and weary by his standards but the truth of him was still as strong as ever.

 

Perhaps it had been too long since such lessons had been taught and learned. Undertaker’s jaw tensed as he thought about Paul Bearer, the man who’d taught him and Kane. Undertaker wore a tribute to Bearer in ink on his skin, using his grief and memories as both reminder and power. Kane tensed too and they both took a breath in memory. Some wounds were never meant to heal, that was their power.

 

As for Seth, there was a lot of rot, denial and lies to scour out. Was Seth prepared? Doubtful, but he had come willingly which showed that he wasn’t as slaved to the Authority’s ideals as he’d always made himself out to be. It was a willingness that he hadn’t displayed before and it made a vital difference. Perhaps before Undertaker took his next trip into the desert, Kane would bring Dean and Roman here and then that cycle could begin again anew. When Undertaker had encountered Seth, Dean and Roman before under their Shield banner, the three of them had glimmered with the air of something powerful. That air would only expand and increase once they reforged and renewed their connection and began again.

 

Yes, that chimed right. Perhaps the irritation that Undertaker had been feeling had not just been due to Kane’s worn mortal skin and subsequent spirit thinning. Maybe fresh cycles were needed and fresher blood. Hounds were always hungry.

 

Undertaker drew a foot through a patch of dirt, breaking a sigil so that Seth was granted access to both the land and buildings situated beyond the Undertaker. If Seth had an attack of corporate conscience at some point later on and tried to bring the Authority here for the Undertaker’s scalp, he wouldn’t gain any glory for them or for himself. Undertaker had built layers upon layers of protection into this land, if Seth tried to bring anyone unwanted here, everything would simply cease to exist. Undertaker had learned many useful tricks over the years, fire had been a vicious lesson so many times.

 

Never again. The women Undertaker had married and the children they had bore him appeared to be exposed and uncared for, ripe for the taking by any enemy, but in fact they were all impenetrably protected. Undertaker knew the value of family, of the continuation of blood. Both he and Kane bore the marks of that, marks of ink, scar and bone.

 

Seth was being surprisingly patient; he’d stayed in the car while Kane and Undertaker had conversed. Now Kane needed to leave, he had to get to his mask. He’d be back once he’d shed his current body and had stored it safely until it was needed again.

 

Kane gestured towards the car and the passenger door opened. Seth wasn’t wearing a suit but he was wearing all black and he’d brought his briefcase with him. Undertaker blinked slowly and Kane walked silently away. He was replenished after spending time with his brother, after walking across the Undertaker's laden land. Kane's charms needed to be worked on though, Undertaker had spotted some weaknesses. He knew the shape of every one. When he and Kane fought, he remapped his own sigils and charms appropriately, locking his brother out until that cycle was complete.

 

Kane’s own protection needed to be strong within the Authority so that he didn’t lose the very truth of himself. The presence of his mask helped somewhat, ludicrously on display, but it wasn’t really enough when so firmly out of his grasp. A mortal Kane really could only last so long. Undertaker watched as Kane purposefully drove away. Seth walked across the yard, briefcase in hand. Undertaker measured him easily on sight, a coffin taking shape in his mind. He would build it, he'd already made so many for Kane.

 

The vultures circled and smiled.

 

_-the end_

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel: [As The Vultures Fly](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2672723)


End file.
